The Cross We Bear
by stryxowl
Summary: Wickham didn't even seem to be aware of her approach. She felt her blade cut through his arm and then he fell beneath the hooves of her horse, by all appearances, gone from this world forever. [Movie. I suppose this is a missing/expanded scene twoshot.]
1. Chapter 1

AN: Something ridiculous because... why not.

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In the dark, nothing looked familiar and, after the weeks of siege laid against London, any landmarks she might previously recognize were long gone. She sliced down yet another undead and dug her heels into the flanks of her warhorse, prompting him to kick out at another zombie that was approaching from behind. Looking around, Elizabeth sought to regain her bearings. London was in flame to her right and she gazed at it in horror. It looked like the world was ending.

The horse shifted beneath her restlessly and she unconsciously check him. A moment late, an unholy howl rose in the air that sent a shiver of terror down her spine. She turned her horse in the direction of the cry. Her heart leapt to her throat even as her stomach dropped. More zombies than she'd ever imagined were cresting over a not too distant ridge and heading directly for Hingham Bridge.

"No," she gasped, gripping the reins tightly.

It was like the bowels of Hell had spewed forth its wrath. The ravenous zombie horde surged across the fields below. A horse's neigh made her sit up straight in the saddle. A black horse flew over the ridge with a rider on its back. For a wild moment, Elizabeth thought the zombies were now on horseback, but then she recognized the girl on horseback.

"Lydia!" she shouted, uncaring if the unmentionables heard her. "Lydia!"

Lydia didn't stop and Elizabeth watched her ride away. It was then she realized that Lydia was alone. She frantically searched the running horde for Darcy, but saw no flash of steel. Firming her resolve, Elizabeth turned away from following her sister and instead headed deeper into enemy territory. Her progress was unhampered and the fact that the zombies completely ignored her was unnerving. It was like someone had given them orders.

Elizabeth scoured the countryside, her hope diminishing with every hour that passed. Everywhere she looked, there were undead and they were all heading for the bridge. And she had yet to find Darcy. The night sky was graying in the east and every minute grew brighter. She was running out of time. Just one more glen and she'd ride for the bridge, she promised herself.

The sound of metal ringing against metal propelled her forward and then she heard a familiar voice raised in triumphant anger. She saw a flash of scarlet through the trees and urged her horse into a charge, breaking into the clearing and comprehending the scene without slowing. Wickham, his once pristine redcoat disheveled and torn, stood over Darcy with a katana raised.

"I was one of them all along!" Wickham shouted down at Darcy, his once handsome face twisted grotesquely. "I'm a king!"

Wickham didn't even seem to be aware of her approach. She felt her blade cut through his arm and then he fell beneath the hooves of her horse, by all appearances, gone from this world forever. The shame that rose from her belief in Wickham's goodness was better, but she pushed such thoughts and self-chastisements to the side. Their immediate survival was more important. Elizabeth lowered her miaodao, trying to still the racing of her heart as she wheeled about to keep an eye on her surroundings.

Darcy stumbled and collapsed to his knees, gasping to fill his oxygen-starved lungs. He coughed roughly, fisting his hands in the churned up grass. Heart in her throat, she looked down at him with great concern and examined him closely though she stayed on her guard in case the worst should've happened. He dry heaved for a moment and then lifted his hands to his face as if ashamed of his actions. When his coughing and gasping subsided into harsh pants, Elizabeth demanded, "Were you bitten?"

Her question brought her thoughts back to the zombie attack during the Netherfield ball. She knew now just how painful that question, and the possible outcome, had been for him. She could now recall the anguish that had been hidden beneath the words then. She prayed he wasn't so damned, but she would carry out her duty and dispatch him if need be. He wouldn't want to continue his existence in an undead state. She didn't want to think about how she would feel if she had to destroy Mr. Darcy.

Her hand tightened around the hilt of her miaodao, muscles tensing with dread the longer it took for an answer to come. Darcy finally shook his head, gasping, "No."

Relief flooded through her and she allowed the tension to drain from her sword arm. Looping the reins around the pommel, Elizabeth slid out of the saddle and approached the kneeling man, still keeping her blade ready. With her free hand, she roughly tugged at his clothing, pulling with enough force to see the flesh of his neck and uppermost shoulder. Apart from the rising bruising on his throat, his skin was pale and unblemished. He offered up his wrists for her examination with no complaint, not seeming to care about the impropriety of her actions.

Satisfied with her quick perusal, she sheathed her miaodao and held out her hand to help him rise. He staggered into her, hands grasping at her shoulders in order to steady himself. She stumbled back a step under his unexpected weight and wrapped an arm around his back. Darcy grunted. "Forgive me."

"It is nothing, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth assured him, reaching for the reins of her horse. "Come, we don't have much time. Sunrise isn't far off."

"Wait," Darcy rasped, turning to scan the ground. "My katana."

"Mr. Darcy—"

He staggered away from her, clumsily kicking away Wickham's severed arm before bending to pick up his katana. He swayed a little when he straightened, but he quickly steadied himself and firmed his jaw. "This will be all for naught if I don't ensure Wickham is truly gone."

A few seconds more wouldn't make that much of a difference, Elizabeth reasoned. And he was right. One doesn't leave their enemy behind so they can return with greater force to kill you later.

Darcy cautiously approached Wickham's trampled form, standing over his one-time friend and gazing down at the broken body. The old zombie bite on Wickham's right chest was festering and the exposed wound smelled of rot. Elizabeth covered her mouth and turned away. How had she missed the signs? How had they _all_ missed the signs? They were trained to recognize the undead at all stages of the infection.

Elizabeth lifted herself onto the back of her horse and then watched impassively as Darcy shifted his grip on his katana and murmured:

"Thou, O Lord, art just and powerful: O defend our cause against the face of the enemy.  
O God, thou art a strong tower of defense to all that flee unto three: O save us from the violence of the enemy.  
O Lord of hosts, fight for us, that we may glorify thee.  
O suffer us not to sink under the weight of our sins, or the violence of the enemy.  
O Lord, arise, help us, and deliver us for they Name's sake."

Taking a deep breath, he drove his katana through Wickham's skull and then beheaded the corpse for good measure. Elizabeth nudged the horse forward while he flicked his blade clean and sheathed it with a grimace. With Elizabeth's help, he mounted the horse behind her and wrapped his arms around her slim waist. She waited only long enough for him to tell her he was ready, then she kicked the horse into a gallop.


	2. Chapter 2

The gallop toward Hingham Bridge was rough and the fall of the horse's hooves reverberated in his skull, increasing the pounding of his headache. The gray of dawn was brightening and with every minute he knew brought them closer to their end. At first light, Bingley would, hopefully, give the order to destroy the bridge and therefore trap the unholy undead within the In Between. The undead around them paid no attention to them as they passed and Elizabeth made no special effort to avoid trampling the undead that were in her way.

He adjusted his hold on her waist, watching the riotous curls that brushed the back of her neck bounce. She had come for him, that had to mean something. He'd nearly given into his despair after Hunsford; only the thought of his sister kept him from giving into his emotions. Despite his rising hope that she could possibly care for him, he knew he had to say something. One horse couldn't carry both of them at full gallop all the way to the bridge.

"You need to leave me," he told her.

She made a sound of displeasure, but didn't slow the gallop. He loosened his hold and she immediately grabbed the sleeve of his overcoat and held tight. It felt like his heart skipped a beat in that moment.

"Miss Bennet—"

"No," she snapped, and urged the horse faster. At this rate the horse would be lame by the time they reached the bridge. If they reached the bridge. He knew what he should do, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her. Darcy leaned into her, savoring the warmth of her body in the cold of the morning. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, muttering words of encouragement and prayers for speed.

By the grace of God, they managed pulled ahead of the undead horde and Darcy could see the road to the bridge. Hingham Bridge was still a mile off. First light touched the eastern horizon. They weren't going to make it.

"Miss Bennet? We won't make it."

"We will," she said, as if her words were law. "We will."

His head fell against the back of her neck and his arms tightened around her. Her heart beat rapidly against his arms and he could hear the rasp of her breath. His thoughts turned to those he would leave behind. Poor Georgiana would lose the last of her family before she was even an adult. And Pemberley and all who depended on him would be cast adrift. Hopefully Fitzwilliam would be able to help Georgiana.

The ground turned to cobblestone and the horse's hooves rang with their desperate hopes. The bridge was within sight and he could hear shouted commands of the army on the other side of the Royal Canal carried faintly on the breeze. The last of their explosives were being prepared. They weren't going to make it.

"Why did you come?" he asked.

" _Three_!"

The countdown had started. They clattered onto the bridge. Bingley and Elizabeth's sisters stood on the other side, faces pale and drawn.

"I had to," she said, her breath catching.

" _Two_!"

"Why?" If he was going to die, he wanted to know that her thoughts and feelings had changed, at least a little.

"I couldn't bear living in this world and have you thinking only of brains."

" _One_!"

The explosion was nearly instantaneous. A rush of fire, smoke, and stones that flew up from below. The horse screamed and then he was flying. He thought he heard someone screaming their names and then he collided with something hard and there was pain and darkness.

 _"From the first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone."_

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AN: Yup. That's it. Unless I'm feeling particularly inspired and decide to add to the trash heap that is this.


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